How she survived
by Irina89
Summary: My take on the end of Season 5. Will Irina ever heal enought to start living again? Will any of them ever manage to get out of this spy world and lead a normal life? Or is it their destiny to always be drawn back in, what ever they do? Heavy JI, little SV
1. Prologue

All the characters of Alias are the property of JJ Abrahms, Mad Robbot, ABC (?) etc. If they were mine do you really think I'd be wondering how the hell I'm gonna pay for college?

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_Prologue_

This is the story of a woman, barely more than a child in fact, who had to make a choice. Or so she thought. But who knows, maybe she did have to. She was ordered to marry a man and have a child with him. She kept telling herself over and over again that this was a job, just a job, that she was not going to grow attached, that she would not love. The child came into the world and she chose her work over her motherhood, her country over her family.

Six years later she had grown, completely shedding the child in her, and she realized that there _is_ something worse than betraying your country: betraying your family. But by now she also knew that betraying them was the only way to keep them alive. In pieces: a man with a broken heart who will take twenty years and her return to learn how to smile again, and a child with a hole in her heart where her mother's love used to be, a hole she will fill up with idealized images until the day she comes back. In pieces, yes, but alive.

And so she left, and so for twenty years, to keep two of the only three people she truly loved alive, she stayed dead. Who is the third one you ask? That is a long story or maybe a too short one: that child is taken away from her at birth and the day she meets her again her daughter falls into a coma, and dies, killed by the man she thinks is her father.

When a time came where she could come back to the two of them she still loved them too much, she was still too used to her solitude and to hurting in that place inside her chest that begged for their touch, their smell, their sound, their presence; that she kept away from them in a habit of protection and love. Fortunately love ended up drawing her back to them. First to her daughter who had to learn to trust her all over again and then to love her; then to her husband in their search for each other.

He hated her because of her betrayal but he hated himself more because he loved her. She loved him too but was so scared of being rejected, of being hurt, again, that she flirted with him and manipulated him to hide and make him angry or at least grow impatient so he could not be cold and break her heart with his indifference. They found a sort of love and trust again but she betrayed them, again. She could hate herself for it if she let herself.

Later their child disappeared, presumed dead. They started their dance again, loaded with new betrayals over the twenty year old ones. Searching for their daughter, working together, seeing the care in each other's eyes, in each other's actions, they started to let down the barriers that would allow their love to reach behind the fresh hurts and find at least some kind of trust in each other. It was hard for both of them to trust the other with the heart he crushed so carelessly twice before. They managed, somehow.

But there was a problem, of course, there is always a problem: she, to stay sane, had found herself an obsession in the works of a man long dead but fond of leaving clues and wild goose chases and treasure maps all around the world. He wrote of her daughters and of her, of their lives, he brought meaning when she needed it. It is hard to get rid of an obsession and even harder to get rid of one that gives answers. She would not, could not, for it promised her so much. She had failed to see that now her family could give her all that and more, she had stopped looking at what she thought was a dead end, a doomed situation. And anyways she could not stop now, so close to discovering what these clues mean, where the wild goose chase is leading, what the maps are showing. So close.

Maybe the man could see the future, maybe he did see her life and all the ones around her. I like to believe that he made the chase, the maps, the clues, to keep her alive, so she would not die of despair in those twenty years. That he wanted to help her through that but that he hoped that then she would have enough sense in her to turn away from the prophecies and the possibilities and come back to what she could have.

At one time she might have been able to, and even though she was strong, very strong, everyone has his breaking point. Hers came in the form of one of her sisters. And so she was too broken, too broken to make new choices, too broken to consider an other life where she could be happy, too broken to let go of the life line that had kept her alive for the last twenty years; even though it was starting to strangle her. And so the obsession took over as her broken mind and heart clung to the choice she had made such a long time ago when she was young and innocent.

This led her to betraying her daughter and her husband, again, and especially to one night where she found herself fighting to the death with the one daughter she had left.

This is where the accounts differ.

Some say, including her daughter when ever you press her for an answer -she doesn't like to talk about it- that she died that night, stupidly, choosing her obsession over her.

But sometimes if you pester her long enough, and hard enough, and if you pay very close attention you will catch a fugitive glint in her eye. And there are those blank postcards sent to complete strangers that sometimes find themselves in the mail. She used to show them to her own daughter when she was a baby, whispering something into her ear, but she has stopped now, even though the cards still arrive like clockwork.

And those few times when the baby was small and her husband was asleep she heard her crying in the middle of the night and quickly calm down as if someone was nursing her. This also happened when she had her son. She'd pray her husband would not wake up just at that moment, and he never did. Those nights she always slept well; and when she went into the nursery in the morning, a faint, reassuring smell still lingered there. When the child got older she told her mother she sometimes dreamt of a beautiful woman coming in her window and watching her sleep, she'd smile and answer: "What a beautiful dream sweetheart, maybe she's your guardian angel."

She told no one of this, never, not even her husband. He wouldn't understand: he had always hated her mother because she had killed his father, she understood that. And her father? Well, he had died that night too.

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So yeah, I wrote this as a one shot originally and then it became a prologue but I'm not so sure about posting the rest, but then, yeah, I like the rest. So, thoughts, ideas, you hate it, you love it? Use that pretty little purple button down there. You'll make my day. 


	2. Waking up

_Chapter one: waking up_

True, she battled with her daughter, and true she fell through that glass ceiling, but she did not die. She very nearly did though. Someone, no one knows who, as she was sneaked into a room unnoticed, brought her to the hospital were they healed her wounds and got her out of her coma. It was a miracle: there were only broken limbs, a concussion and the hundreds of little cuts from the glass. The coma was caused by shock more than anything else. Years later, the only thing that would remind her of this incident was a slightly stiff neck when ever she got too tired.

She was sleeping peacefully in her hospital bed guarded by a man. He looked like he should be in one of those beds too. He would be if the doctors had any say about it, but no one can force Jack Bristow to lay his eyes off his wife until she has provided him with an explanation to his satisfaction about the last year or so. He also wanted to make sure she didn't escape, again. She had gotten here a week ago, barely a few hours before he did. Since then he had watched her sleep night and day, which meant he was off the pain medications but he didn't really care about that. Although he was himself in very bad shape, having received three bullets in the chest, one of them collapsing his left lung. During those long hours of solitude and silence it dawned on him that it was not so much because he hated her that he was guarding her but because he loved her. He tried to stay clear of this fact as much as he could but there is only so much a man can do to resist Irina Derevko: even when gone obviously mad and having tried to kill her, their, daughter, he was still falling for her charms. As hard as the first time, maybe even harder because now, knowing who she is, he still couldn't stop himself.

One morning, very early, the sun was barely starting to lighten the darkness; he was up, watching her. Everything was perfectly still when suddenly she moved a finger. A quick twitching he first believed to be a hallucination, but she did it again, this time moving all of her arm, then both of them in more and more desperate thrashing movements. At this moment, as relief washed over him, Jack realized just how much he cared. He had never been this happy to see Irina dreaming; even if it was a nightmare, but that might be one of the reasons too. He would have liked to get up and go to her but he couldn't, his legs wouldn't carry him just yet. So he stayed in his chair waiting for her to wake up, he wanted to whisper words of comfort but decided that he was not quite ready for that yet either.

Opening her eyes, she looked surprised, even slightly panicked as she tried to make sense of where she was and who had her. Her eyes meticulously scanned the room until she spotted Jack, a darker shadow among shadows. She looked confused. "Jack?" and flashes of relief and then fear passed over her face before she could conceal them.

"I thought you were dead."

"Well I am, as you are, according to the CIA."

For an instant she looked amused and he couldn't completely dissimulate the spark in his eyes either. But he soon got serious again.

"Tell me what happened."

She didn't answer immediately, looking for a clue about what he wanted to hear.

"Irina, I want the truth" His voice was dipped in venom; she cringed slightly, suddenly appearing vulnerable.

"Jack, I… I'm sorry"

"Excuses won't do Irina, I need an explanation", she cringed further and then took control of herself while attempting to explain:

"I was out of my mind with frustration: I had offered Sydney a way out; but she didn't take it. She reminded me of myself and I got scared for her. I wanted a way out for her, I thought that maybe if I could make her hate me enough she would come to hate this life, but your daughter is stubborn. The fight got out of control and when I saw an opportunity to get her to her senses: I took it."

Jack had been looking into her eyes during that speech and he finally opened his mouth: "Stop portraying yourself as the martyr here Irina and tell me the truth." The cold in his words sent a chill down her spine.

"It is the truth." His eyes beckoned her to continue, to tell the truth for once. She knew she was too tired to fight him on this, or on anything else, and she had to let it out sooner or later. It scared her to let loose so much emotion but she hoped it would hurt him at least as much as it hurt her. What was really holding her back was the faint promise of happiness this situation held: she had gotten used to the status quo, had done everything in her power to reinforce it. She lifted her chin defiantly:

"I fought her over the Rambaldi artifact, I was ready to kill her for it, I want power Jack, even you can understand this. But you have to believe me that in the end, on that glass roof; it was for my daughter that I let myself fall. I want power Jack: eternal life. That entails staying alive. What ever my faults I am not suicidal." As soon as those words got out of her mouth she knew they were no longer true, power and eternal life would be useless without Jack and Sydney. She also knew that she will nonetheless cling to them for a while but that at the end it will mostly be for the pleasure of seeing Jack angry.

They continued their conversation, Jack getting gentler as Irina broke down her walls. He told her about what happened between Arvin and him in the cave and how he is now buried alive under a couple hundred of tons of rock for the rest of eternity. Irina will never abandon completely the dream of eternal life but she now understands that there are times when being mortal has its advantages. When he told her about Nadia's death by Sloane's hands she shed tears, not caring what Jack would think about that. She cursed herself for her carelessness, for letting her little baby anywhere near this mad man. New hurt fell upon her when she understood that Nadia had died before her or Jack knew the truth. She stubbornly stared at the sheets and murmured, barely over a whisper "Concerning Nadia, and Sloane, you should know, he…" He cut her there and forced her to look at him "I know, Irina, I know, and I understand for Sloane, but Nadia?" "I never had the time to tell her."

Jack could now see just how broken this strong woman really was but also that time and love might seal the cuts enough for her to be able to live again. He understood how stupid he had been to let her walk away after Sovogda: no one came out unharmed of six months of intense torturing; especially when the torturing was done by the hand of your own sister.

By the end of the conversation they both knew nothing was solved but they felt that there was some hope. There was a little tenderness in both their eyes that was back. Sydney would have recognized it as a faint remembrance of what there used to be between her parents. Something of the man who had written 'all my love, forever and a day' had come back along with something of the woman it had been intended for: although this man and that woman would never truly come back. They have both lived too much.


	3. Tears

_Chapter two: tears_

"Mom? Dad? How? I thought…"

Irina advanced to comfort her but she jerked away screaming.

"You fought with me. I killed you! I killed you! You would have killed me! You chose Rambaldi over me! Dad!?"

She finally cried coming into his arms. "Why did you make everyone believe you were dead? Why did you disappear on me? I needed you! I needed you!!"

She was screaming again and jerked out of his arms.

"Sydney, I need you to calm down. Sit. I never wanted to hurt you. I found myself in the same hospital as your mother. We had a little talk. We both agreed it would be better for her to stay dead."

"Fine, I don't give a damn about her. But you. You could have come back, given a sign you were alive. It has been two months dad, two months. I buried you. You can't just…"

"Sydney, your mother needs help."

"I don't give a damn. And Irina Derevko does not need help."

"Your. Mother. Needs. Help. And I can't help her with the CIA breathing down my neck."

"You could still have come back earlier, given a sign, done something."

"We got out of the hospital just a week ago, and both of us being dead it took us this much time to get here."

There was a silence in which Sydney tried to process everything that had been said. Then something hit her "How did mom and you end up in the same hospital? You weren't exactly close to each other when you got hurt."

Irina answered "We suspect Julian."

"Sark? Why would he? What would he gain out of this?"

At this Irina shrugged. She had tried her best to stay out of the conversation until now but she couldn't stop herself anymore. "Sydney" She pleaded.

"Don't talk to me, I don't care what dad thinks, if he wants to give you another chance, fine. But I'm over and done with you."

"Sydney, just hear me out." Sydney gave her a look meaning 'fine, what ever' and Irina decided that was as much encouragement as she was getting.

"Sydney, I love you. You have to believe that. I would never do anything to harm you."

"Mom, quit…"

"Sydney, I'm really sorry for Hong-Kong. I… wasn't really myself. I was hurting so much and I was getting so close to Rambaldi's end game… I was… misguided. I had come to a point where I believed I deserved to be hurt. I had to be hurt. The best way to do that was by hurting you. I… I know its no excuse, but I love you Sydney, I'm your mother, you have to believe that would be the case what ever the situation."

"I've heard that before."

"Sydney, please."

It wasn't so much the speech as the look on her mother's face, she could read her like an open book for the first time in her life: there was so much pain there and so much truth too, that convinced her she was being completely honest with her.

"Mom" she sobbed, letting herself being taken in her arms and keeping her there for a very long time while they both shed tears.

"Mommy, I missed you so much. I missed you too Dad, come here." And Jack came, embracing them both rather awkwardly but he was too relieved to care much about that. The three of them stood there in silence until Sydney finally decided to break it: "You know what mom? Next time you're having a depression or thinking of dominating the world, tell us first so we don't have to go through this dying and burying bullshit again." This led to a small smile on each of their faces. The smile grew when they heard Isabelle starting to gurgle gleefully in the room next door. She had just woken up from her afternoon nap and was very keen on entertaining herself with the taste of her own feet.

"I have to go get Isabelle; it's time for her meal."

"Go on, we'll wait here."

She left the two of them alone. They didn't say a word but their eyes did: "I think that went rather well." "Me too." Their hands had unconsciously reached for each other, and they just stood there looking for all the world like what they were: in love. At that point Sydney came out with Isabelle, but as they didn't notice her immediately she took the opportunity to stare. Her parents hadn't been acting like that around each other since Laura had died, and she felt like a child again. Until then she hadn't been able to get rid of the nagging sensation that this was too good, too easy, that there had to be some kind of trick, but seeing them like that she thought that maybe, just maybe, everything would be all right. She turned her baby so she was facing them and whispered into her ear: "Isabelle, I want you to meet your grandparents. I wouldn't say they're nice but they're all I have." It was as if she had understood because she stared at them with interest and smiled.

Irina was the first to notice Sydney and the baby standing there. "Oh, my, is that her, she has grown so much since…" She stopped there remembering what had happened last time she'd seen her granddaughter, and feeling guilty about it.

"Since last time. It's all right mom, I wouldn't have been able do it without you. Do you want to take her?" She didn't have time to say anything and soon found herself with Isabelle in her arms, much to Isabelle's and her surprise. She started fussing at first, she didn't know what to make of this: being thrust into a stranger's arms, but she soon calmed down as she found out this particular stranger was rather comfortable and somewhat familiar. She soon started playing with her grandmother's hair and seemed content. Irina could barely restrain her amazement and her tears. "I'm so sorry, little one, so sorry." She whispered down into her ear. After a little while, when she realized she was going to lose the battle against her tears she gave the baby to Jack and left for another room. Sydney wanted to go after her but Jack stopped her. "Leave her, she needs space, she's still trying to work out… stuff." That stopped her more than anything, for her father to stay 'stuff' and want her to give space to someone, well, it must be important.

Irina came back a few minutes later, her eyes a little red but other than that looking pretty much her old, composed, self. During that time Jack had been staring with amazement and pride at Isabelle. "I thought I'd never see her again." As Irina came back both Sydney and Jack cast her questioning looks but she shrugged them off. "I'm fine."

The rest of the afternoon was spent with the four of them getting to know each other a little better. There were a few more tears and laughs, and even one hysterical fit of giggles by Irina and Sydney which had both Jack and Isabelle staring at them with growing curiosity and incomprehension. That alone fuelled the giggles for a whole five more minutes.

Her parents left half an hour before Vaughn was due home from his teaching job. Sydney and Vaughn had both quit the CIA after the happenings of the previous months and he had taken a job as a teacher, Sydney started her own in the fall as she had decided that for now taking care of Isabelle was more important. As she watched them leave she realized that even if there were still a few huge knots to untangle, this was definitely a start.


	4. Well kept secrets

disclaimer: yadayadyada, you all know it, not mine, his (J.J.). And lets just say this is good for all the other chaps too.

Here is one more chapter, I'm sorry to anyone that has been reading this that it took so long but there were term exams and then the deadlines for the essays, so I didn't really have that much time on my hands (even though I should have been writing my extended instead of this last night). Oh, and originally this wasn't were I wanted the chapter to finish but I have absolutly no idea when I'll find the time to write and post more so there it is, anyways I think it is not badly balanced in its present state. But all that is not important so without further ado:

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_Chapter three: well kept secrets_

"Sydney! I'm home."

"Vaughn, I'm back here."

Vaughn put down his keys, bag and coat and headed to the other side of the house where a grand veranda with a glass ceiling took up all the room. It was beautiful in there when ever the sun was out. The couple had moved to New York and those few sunny moments in there reminded them of Los Angeles. Sydney and Isabelle were both sprawled on the floor playing with various colorful and noisy toys. When he saw her Vaughn felt like something in her had changed. She was less…and more… He couldn't really put his finger on it but she seemed happier, freer, as if some weight had lifted off her heart.

"Syd, how was your day?"

"Perfect. Vaughn, I…" and there she had to stop herself. Her parents had left not even an hour ago and she hadn't had the time to think through what she was going to tell Vaughn. She had intended to tell him everything. But now that he was in front of her and she remembered how much he had suffered because of her family, how much he had lost and how he tended to see things as black and white with absolutely no shades of grey. Well, that was the problem; her parents were all shades of grey. Maybe waiting a bit, preparing him for the news before she dumped it on him would be the most considerate thing to do.

"Isabelle did the cutest thing ever this morning."

Vaughn had caught her hesitation but he decided that if it was important she'd come round and tell him when ever she felt ready. But what ever it was it couldn't be so bad because it looked like she just couldn't stop grinning when ever she thought he wasn't paying attention.

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Sydney lay in bed that night, wide awake. As she couldn't get any sleep she got up and went in to the nursery to watch Isabelle, that always seemed to calm her. She let her thoughts wander for a while before trying to make up a plan to let Vaughn in smoothly on the news. But the more she thought about it the more that seemed impossible, the only way would be just telling him, now. And the more she thought about that, the more she doubted her decision of telling him. On the one hand she had lived with lies for too long, she didn't want to go on lying, especially to Vaughn, the one person she had always been able to tell everything to. The person she loved, the person she trusted, above all. But on the other hand; what good would it do him? None, he was perfectly happy with the present situation even if, by respect for her, he never said a word and let her mourn her parents. She felt lost.

These thoughts went through her mind for hours, while her eyes kept looking at her daughter, at dawn she had found her answer. She wouldn't tell him. That way his mind would be at peace and her parents would be safe from any rash decision from Vaughn. After all they had been through he still thought like a soldier, like the Boy Scout that he truly was. She had fallen in love with him for that reason; she couldn't blame him for it now. She had been, once, as blindly patriotic as he was, had once lived in a world of two colors: black or white, like him, that is why he was reassuring to her, why he was her rock. She couldn't be that naïve anymore. Apparently, treason, or at least circumventing the laws, was in the blood. And even if, for some people, including Vaughn if he ever found out, her decision was morally questionable, for her it wasn't: this was the best compromise to keep most people safe and happy. And national security? She felt like she had given them enough, and then some, and that, what ever happened, her father would be keeping her mother out of harm's way.

Picking up Isabelle once she had woken up she whispered, half talking to herself: "Now, we just have to make sure daddy never finds out that your grandparents are alive… or mommy is going to have a lot of explaining to do, and daddy is not going to like it, not at all."

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Irina and Jack were lying on the bed in Irina's safe house in New York. That choice of safe house had nearly degenerated into an enormous dispute instead of the endless little quarrels they seemed to be having. But Jack had no safe house in the city and Irina had ended up convincing him that this was as secure as they were ever getting.

She had bought this house nearly 20 years ago, in fact as soon as she had managed to get the KGB off her back. She was known to all the neighbors as Laura Bristow which made Jack nearly suffer from a heart attack when he heard that name being shouted by a young girl in the middle of the street. They knew nothing else other that she was a mysterious woman that came and went at odd times and dates. Many a time had the women of the street on the occasion of some get-together or other ganged to get something of her past or her life out of her but Irina had held fast and never uttered a word. Nonetheless they treated her as one of their own because there was a sadness in her that told them she had lived and suffered as much as they had; and the kids adored her. This was verified by the fact that as soon as that girl shouted her name she ran into Irina's arms along with a few of the other children, all under the pleased eyes of their mothers that had put their head outside to see what all that commotion was about. Jack was flabbergasted; he was looking at Irina and he couldn't recognize her. It took him a split second to realize why: she wasn't playing an act and she was happy, completely and utterly happy; a happiness without complications and without second thoughts.

"Aunt Laura, you were gone for so long, we missed you so much, how long are you staying this time?"

"How long, how long?" their eyes seemed to pleading.

"At least a month."

That sent a roar of happiness up in the air, and Jack had to do an effort to conceal his surprise, growing anger and curiosity. He decided he would ask her about all this once they got a bit of privacy.

"Laura. It's nice to see you. Why don't you come in for a cup of tea?" said an enormous and matronly woman that had been observing them silently. Jack was on the verge of refusing when she added "and bring that young man in with you."

Jack was shocked at being called a 'young man' after all he was in his early 60s, but he was even more shocked when Irina made no sign of disagreeing and started walking in after the woman who had already disappeared inside, presumably to make the tea. Seeing Jack glued to the side walk Irina took his arm and gently pulled him in "Come in, I'll explain later."

He found himself inside a dim lit, old and obviously poor but extremely clean corridor which led into a similar kitchen. There was a table with chairs in the middle of it and seeing Irina sitting down without any apparent invitation he followed her example and sat himself down. There was what seemed like a long silence in which nobody talked. The woman was occupied with making them tea and never broke the silence only casting a questioning look at Irina who answered "no milk, no sugar."

At thirst Jack thought this was for her, but as it turned out it was for his own because the woman looked like she knew exactly what to put in Irina's. During the time it took for the tea to be made and for each of them to have a steaming cup in front of them Jack observed the kitchen, that woman and his wife very intently. He got nothing out of the kitchen other that this woman was obviously poor but didn't think it a reason to not have a spotless house. The woman in herself was much more interesting, she was fat, round and felt old, but for the life of him he wouldn't have been able to give her an age. Most importantly she had such an air of authority and intelligence about her that it was impossible not to respect her. What also surprised him what that Irina, a woman no one controlled, or ordered about; let herself be controlled, at least to an extent by this woman who had absolutely no power, not in their world anyways. She had another kind of power: she told truths you had to listen to. Jack felt that what ever this woman said, what ever advice she gave, even if it hurt like hell and was something you didn't want to hear, you listened and acknowledged it because there was no other way, because it held a truth you could not shun from for long. In her presence Irina looked like a young woman, barely more than a child, in need of advice, or even a scolding. Finally they all had their tea and the woman had settled down in front of hers.

"How long has it been since the last time you were here? Remind me, my memory isn't what it used be."

"A year and a half."

The woman looked at Irina intently there. "You were troubled at that time, more than usual, and you haven't been away for that long before, are things settled?"

"They are… in a way."

Seeing there wasn't much more to get out of Irina through that line of questioning she turned her stare to Jack. "Who would you be?"

Irina beat him to the answer "It's Jack, my husband."

She didn't look at all shocked by that but she turned her gaze to Irina. "Laura, I'm sure he can answer on his own."

Turning her eyes back to Jack she repeated "Who are you?"

This time he had to answer "Jack Bristow, Laura's husband, to whom do I owe the honor?"

"Call me Sam. How long have you been married?"

"Thirty four years."

That surprised her and she cast a questioning glare Irina's way "Thirty four years and you never talked about him?"

"I never talked about anything important, especially if it could put people in danger. Jack was too important to put in danger for the sake of gossip."

At that they both stared at each other for a while until Jack thought maybe flames would spring out of their eyes, or Irina would cry. Understanding though, was in the woman's, Sam's, eyes if that was truly how she was called. She suddenly stood up and got a set of keys out of one of her pockets.

"Here, the key to your house, go get settled, get one of the kids to help you, and then take a shower and a nap. Don't worry about your husband here, he'll be fine with me, I'll send him up later."

Irina didn't seem convinced this was the best course of action, and truth be told Jack didn't like the idea either, but there didn't seem to be anything to do to get around this and it was true that she felt in need of a shower and a nap. Before she could react she was being ushered out of the kitchen. Once Irina was outside Sam closed the kitchen door and Jack felt strangely trapped. He had a feeling this was not something he was going to enjoy.

To occupy his mind he was trying to figure out how this Sam had managed to get so much authority over Irina Derevko. But that didn't turn out any answer until he realized that it wasn't over Irina Derevko that this woman had authority but over Laura Bristow, who ever she was here. Lost in his thoughts he didn't realize that Samantha, because that was her real name, was observing him intently. Her first question, even though it was blaringly simple, off put him:

"How is she?"

And before he could stop himself he was answering her truthfully "Better, I think."

"Not so good then?"

"No, but it is getting better."

"I haven't seen her that bad since the first time. What happened?"

Jack trusted this woman, he didn't know why but he accepted that fact, but this was too much, too soon, he couldn't tell her that. She saw his hesitation:

"I don't want details or specifics, and if you're anything like her I don't expect I will ever get them, but in general terms, what happened?"

"She got hurt, more than I thought, I should have known, I should have been with her…" He stopped there, on the verge of letting some emotion show, she encouraged him silently to continue "She got hurt and it broke her, and after that… it just got worse."

For the first time Samantha looked truly worried "She doesn't say much about herself, but I know she is strong, stronger than a lot of people will ever be, it must have been really hard."

"Yes, it was. I knew but I overestimated her, I was so used at her seeming invulnerable, and our lives being so complicated, I shouldn't have let her go."

"What is done is done, no good brooding on it. Right now she needs your help. For that you have to stop feeling responsible. You aren't. Shh listen. It won't do any good to any of you two if you keep feeling responsible for what happened to her. She is a grown woman; if she wanted help she could have asked for it one way or another. But she is too bloody stubborn, isn't she? And so are you. She got herself in this mess but apparently she can't get herself out."

"That's why we are here."

"Why here, here though? You obviously didn't know about this place before judging by your reaction. The kids told me you nearly had a heart attack when you heard her name being called."

Jack didn't know what to answer concerning the name so he answered the other question hopping she'd forget about this one. "We are here because this is the only house we could use in New York."

She did realize he was avoiding the question of names but she figured he'd answer once he felt more in security. She had already guessed of course, quite a while ago, that Laura Bristow, be it a real name or not, was very important to Laura emotionally, but this was extra confirmation. And she felt that he was uncomfortable with her using that name and he didn't like being called 'Jack Bristow' either, he seemed scared. But she was confident, she didn't really know why herself, that he was truly her husband, and that made her happy for Laura because she had always seemed in need of a husband.

"Why New York? From what I understood, she is from Los Angeles." That surprised Jack somewhat. "Don't worry, that's about all she told me."

"Our daughter moved here, we'd like to be near her, at least for a while."

If it was news for her that Laura had a daughter nothing in her composure betrayed it. She just nodded her head. They continued in companable silence, each one lost in his own thoughts. Twice Samantha asked Jack if he wanted more tea and twice he said yes although he was too absorbed in his own thoughts to really know what he was doing.

Nearly an hour had passed since Irina had left; Samantha thought it was about time to send her husband back to her.

"Jack? I think it is time for you to get back with your wife. It's a few houses up the street, number 75, the door should be open."

Jack got up and thanked her for the tea and the rest. He understood a bit more why Irina trusted this woman and he thought of her as a highly intelligent and complex person. He decided that he liked her.

Outside, the light hurt his eyes and he had to wait a few seconds to get used to it again. Then he really looked around him for the first time since he had entered the street. What he saw surprised him, from where he was standing this street looked like every other rundown street from the poorer areas but kids were playing around with what looked like not a care in the world and Sam had said the door to Irina's house was open. It most obviously was a very safe neighborhood even if it didn't look at all like it. He walked up the street enjoying the fresh breeze and the sun on his face. He reached the house in barely a minute or so and looked at it for a while. It was clearly old, made of red bricks, and it looked like it needed a few repairs here and there, but so did all the other houses on the street. It wasn't particularly pretty or imposing or anything like that but it felt safe and homey. He started to understand why Irina had bought what was probably her first safe house in the States at this place. Even if he still couldn't understand how a Laura Bristow could have lived here on and off for the last twenty years, owned property even, with all these people knowing and neither the CIA nor the FBI learning about it. These people were a security risk, personally this was the last place he would have thought of as a safe house, everyone knew too much. They knew his God damned name! Irina had given them his God damned name without so much as a second thought! He was supposed to be dead; they were both supposed to be dead. This infuriated his need for containment of information, his need for secrecy, but maybe his wife was right for once, maybe hiding in plain view was the best course of action, at least for a while, it had worked for her long enough it seemed.

He finally decided to enter the house, it was as spotless as Samantha's, he guessed she was the one that did the cleaning when ever Irina wasn't there, but it was undoubtedly Irina's house. Every one of the pieces of furniture, every one of the little things populating the mantle piece and every square inch of spare space, every one of the books, they all screamed his wife to him. Although all of it was a bit too clean but he was sure that after a few days here it would be as messy as it should be. He took all his time observing the rooms of the first floor, looking at the titles of all the books, picking up every one of the little objects. When he finally got upstairs to the master bedroom he found Irina half asleep on the bed. Once he came in she woke up instantly though, casting a questioning look.

"Get back to sleep, we'll talk later."

She seemed surprised but when he took off his shoes and lay down next to her she let herself drift back once she was comfortably snuggled against him. He smiled at that half unconscious gesture of hers, it reminded him of a time where they were just Jack and Laura, young, newly weds, completely in love with one another and with not a care in the world.

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So, what do you think? please review, you have no idea of how happy you'll make me. ;) 


	5. Decisions

An update! finally! I'm sorry for the delay. But the thing is I have absolutly no idea where I'm going with this so please read and review, that might give me an idea..

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Chapter 4: decisions _

Irina and Jack woke around four o'clock. They made their way downstairs to the couch where they sat hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. They had found themselves again and were scared to loose each other. They just couldn't stop touching, feeling each other's presence; even when they were fighting. It was a physical need. As each second of silence passed Irina got more and more nervous; obviously Jack was waiting for her to breach the subject.

"What do you think of Samantha?"

"I like her. I understand why you trust her. But… this place, these people… I don't understand how you managed to keep all this secret."

"They may seem very open but they don't talk to strangers. Especially not agents." That didn't really convince him but he decided to let it slide, for now.

"And the house, using Laura as an alias?"

"Officially the house is owned by Y.L.I. which has its fiscal address in the Caimans. I was young Jack, not stupid. And I told you: people here don't talk and what better cover than one the CIA and the FBI know about. Really, would you have looked for a Laura Bristow? No." Silence fell for a little while. It seemed as if Irina was debating weather to say something or not. Jack let her battle against herself, only reassuring her with his presence. She finally decided to talk: "And… I missed you… this helped, in a way."

He smiled and put his arm over her shoulders, pulling her to him until her head was nestled under his chin. He felt like this was the only way in his power to reassure her about his feelings on her extraction. He didn't trust himself to talk to her though: even if intellectually and emotionally he understood her choices there was still this part of him that was angry at her for not trusting him enough to tell him at the time and angry at himself for not realizing she had been spying on him during all their relationship.

Irina felt his slight nervousness but tried to push it at the back of her mind as she felt his chest rising and falling and heard the beats of his heart. She completely immersed herself into that and for one moment she nearly forgot all that was wrong, all their problems. For one moment they were just two chests breathing at unison, two hearts beating the same tempo, two bodies making one.

After what seemed like an eternity, and yet only an instant, to both of them, Jack continued:

"Still, it was incredibly risky, living here, in the open, it still is, even more now. I realize there are maybe thousands of Laura Bristows in the US but how many Laura and Jack Bristow do you think there are?"

"The people here won't talk."

"How can you be so sure?"

"They trust me, they know me… and they owe me." Jack lifted an eye brow to signify his surprise and question.

"I pay for the kids' school, I pay for food and such where there is need and I keep the neighborhood safe."

"Why?" The question surprised Irina off of Jack's chest and infuriated her more than she even realized. She felt hurt by it in a way she could barely understand.

"Jack! I don't do everything with an agenda in mind! Because I'm human, because when I got here they didn't ask questions, at least none I couldn't answer, because they were the first people in a long time that treated me like a human being, because I came to love them and them I could help, because I was stupid and sentimental and…"

"Irina, stop, its ok, I didn't mean it like that." Jack cut in, trying to calm her down and wondering why he had been stupid enough to not realize this would hurt her. Irina was trembling with bottled in rage. But she calmed down gradually as Jack held her wrists to keep her from walking out.

"Irina, I'm sorry."

"Jack, if you want this to work, if you want me to trust you you're going to have to trust me, at least trust that I am human, that I have feelings, that I don't do everything just for..."

"I'm sorry, I mean it."

The silence that weighed on them was uncomfortable at first but got more and more comfortable as their body language calmed down and became less tense. They were getting used to these fights and not too long later they had both calmed down. After a while Jack asked:

"How do you keep the neighborhood safe?"

A smile appeared on Irina's face. "I maintain a certain reputation. You come here to do havoc at the risk of a decent beating, maybe even your life if I'm in a particularly bad mood."

That off-put Jack a bit until he looked at Irina and realized she was joking. He continued on the same tone: "Did you ever kill anyone?"

At that Irina laughed: a real and throaty one that went up to her eyes and then contaminated her whole face. "I just scared the shit out of a few when I got here 20 years ago. I was pissed-off at the time, they were good punching bags. Since then I just have to make an appearance every couple of years. They maintain the myth on their own."

Jack smiled. "I can imagine." But too soon his brow furrowed in anxiety.

"You still don't believe this place is safe. We can leave as soon as we get the passports and find a safer place. But, Jack, right now, moving would be a greater risk than staying put."

"I know all this Irina, its just that I feel uneasy not using an alias, an elaborate disguise, I feel vulnerable. It will take me a little time for me to get used to this."

Again silence fell around them. It was a nice sunny afternoon and they felt good just sitting there, listening to the noises of the kids outside, to each other's breathing. They were both in their own thoughts: Jack feeling anxious about Irina, about ever having her be whole again; Irina wondering when something would go wrong, when this would all come crashing down around her. She had learnt that lesson well long ago: however hard you try, it will always come crashing down. She had found it easier in the past to leave before it happened or cause the crash altogether. She wondered just how long she'd be able to stay with Jack without having the overwhelming urge to leave. At around six Jack got out of his reverie and looked at his wife. She seemed alright but there was something in her eyes, a sadness of sorts, than worried him; but as soon as she realized he was watching her it disappeared. He guessed it must have been a bad memory.

They both made dinner, making quite a mess about it but finally managing to get down to eating it. After washing up, Irina settled down with a book and Jack tried to imitate her but after staying fifteen minutes on the same page he decided to just abandon the book and snuggle closely to his wife. She seemed slightly surprised but settled in comfortably and went on reading. A few hours later Jack was feeling like going to bed, he whispered to her "Don't you want to come up?" all he got as an answer was "mmm, let me finish the chapter" "But, Irina, you just started it!" She looked up at him and saw the desire in his eyes, some other time she would have wondered how this man could be so uncompromising and yet forgive her so easily, this time she just blessed the sky for having given her a man that in love and let herself be led upstairs; letting go for once. The night was spent exploring each other again.

When Jack woke up in the morning he was relieved to find her still in bed, fast asleep. Ever since the hospital he'd had that fear of her leaving in the middle of the night again and never coming back this time. The worst thing was that he couldn't even convince himself that this was just an irrational fear: he knew Irina well enough to know that one day or an other she'd get scared, she'd want to flee. The day went without any incident, so did the week. Both of them knew they had to start taking care of getting passports and a more permanent residence but neither of them wanted to contact the outside world and get off their little island. There was also the problem of deciding which of their contacts was trustworthy enough to make passports for anonymous strangers without digging a bit and finding them out. That would end them in prison, at best. They finally came to a conclusion none of them liked but that posed the less safety problems: ask Sydney to have the false identities and passports that went with them done through the contact they trusted the most. Concerning the residence they both had enough money stashed in accounts and safe deposit boxes to buy a house where ever they wished but for that they needed a new identity. None of their old aliases would work, someone would know about them or recognize them and that wasn't a risk they were willing to take.


End file.
